Last month was binge season. I like to think I didn’t do too much damage, but I did and I felt good doing it. I owe those good feelings to my budgeting software and relative discipline while using it in preparation for this season; it’s important to know these things about oneself.

The blazer and boots have been knocking around my head since 2013. Through luck, timing, and the powers of Poshmark and a chance web search that led me to the last single stockist of the last pair of what would be my size in these boots, they knock no more. Special thanks to the Cyber Monday deal that netted an extra 25% off the price. Glossier’s Boy Brow is about as important as soap to me and the bodysuit is one of those things I have to try out just to say that I tried it. My hope is that it will make a decent layering piece now and a summer option when I tire of wearing the same three t-shirts.

Why new guidelines? Because saving money has become more important than buying clothes. They’re fun to look at, try on, and play with, but ultimately, they aren’t improving my life in any tangible way.

I’m starting to wonder why I thought they ever would.

After reading this article and starting the book The More of Less, I’m curious as to why having all these clothes became so important in the first place. When did it become worth all of the pollution, destruction, exploitation, and death to look good for people that I don’t know?

It seems like the trend is to consider the question of worth in regard to makeup, but I feel like it should be extended to fashion, tech gadgets that need to be upgraded every year, and every other consumer good we’ve been made to feel we need to buy in order to be…what exactly? A modern person? Up on the latest? Living our best lives?

Are we really?

I’m convinced that we aren’t. I’m not sure we know what we actually want out of our lives and how all of this stuff fits in. I know I don’t. What’s certain is that we are making a few people incredibly rich and those incredibly rich few people aren’t doing a whole lot with that wealth to better the lives of the people on the lowest rungs of the supply chain. Meanwhile, we all continue to work jobs to pay bills that ensure this stuff is housed and cared for or paid for (with interest!) after we’ve already gotten bored with it.

What could that money be doing instead of sitting unused in the closet, boxed up for Goodwill, paying back creditors, or at the bottom of some junk drawer? I wonder.

It’s sale season on the internet. This is always a trying time, full of angst, open tabs, and reflection on my life and its overall purpose. I once wrote in my “About” section that I live[d] to shop. Terrible. It’s still thrilling to take part in the dance of add-to-cart-oooh-my-card-info-is-saved-place-order, so I’m not sure I’ve overcome my demons.

I’m pretty sure I haven’t actually.

I have, however, learned to quiet them and stay out of their way for the most part; only battling them once the urge REALLY strikes. Oddly enough [sarcasm], I feel those urges most during sale season on the internet. What is a click-happy, reformed binge spender to do???

While I don’t have any surefire answers, I can tell you that the best lines of defense are the following;

budget for these moments (boring, but it works)

have a plan or idea of what you generally need want (I keep a list on my phone)

don’t settle for things that aren’t quite right even if they are on sale (this takes constant reminding. CONSTANT. REMINDING.)

don’t make any high impact purchases of items you only learned about in the last week (more constant reminding)

if you find a grail-level item on sale, buy it

That’s it. Five guidelines to keep the damage as minimal as possible and buyer’s remorse levels low. You could keep the damage to non-existent by closing the tabs and ignoring all of it, but where is the fun in that? Nowhere. That’s where.

Now, since I add an anecdote to nearly everything, I’ll tell you what led to this whole post to begin with. I was minding my own business, reading through my feed on Feedly (mistake #1) when I caught wind of the sale at Shopbop (which is sort of a perpetual thing, no?). Anyway, I went to check it out (mistake #2) when right on the first page were the Acne Star boots. If you’ve been around this blog long enough, you’ll recall my knack for finding seasons-past Acne at a generous discount. Anyway, I see the boots and freak out because they’re half off and within acceptable splurge range for the brand, quality and style. Twenty one seconds later (because I’ve gotten really quick at thinking through all of these things), I completed my order and am now awaiting their arrival with hopes that they don’t truly run one size smaller. If they are, back they go. Because we don’t settle even if things are on sale, right? Right.

ETA: Verdict? They don’t run small, they run narrow…but I seem to have had success stretching them a bit with a pair of thick socks. HUZZAH!